Two Heartbeats
by RustedEagleWings
Summary: Summary: Two heartbeats mingled from the first time they met, but the absence of something is sometimes more noticeable than when it was there. GEN FIC. NO ROMANCE


**Two Heartbeats**

Summary: Two heartbeats mingled from the first time they met, but the absence of something is sometimes more noticeable than when it was there. GEN FIC. NO ROMANCE

This is a surprise. I'm not really sure how this happened except for tears and the random prompt 'heartbeats.' It started off as just me writing then turned into a fanfic. I have just finished writing the next chapter of CoM, so expect it tomorrow after I have edited it. Until then, enjoy this story!

 **-x-X-x-**

He didn't realize what it was until it was gone.

He didn't even notice it in the first place, that was how constant it was in his mind, right from the first time they met, a never ceasing rhythm.

Maybe he noticed something was different when he first woke up in that hospital room.

Maybe it was the first thing he noticed as he began to regain consciousness.

It was a faint thump, thump; one that echoed his own. But was it a second one, or was his hearing just off?

The smell distracted him, that and the sound of beeping and noise, distant yet close, a conversation in another room. When he opened his eyes, the white of the ceiling and the curtains and the walls and, well, everything that was surrounding him, blinded him, drawing a brief spike of pain and he forgot about the unusual feeling or sound and just tried to go back to his normal life - as normal as he could with a new ghost friend.

There was never silence anymore, not the kind he had once been used to. His life was filled with noise, either from living people; family, friends, people around him having conversations, random strangers on the streets, or else the non-living; dead, phantom, ghost.

The ghost would not be silent, either trying to convince him to play go or else asking questions. It was a never-ending string of questions about anything and everything. How does this work? What does that do? Why did you say that? What does that mean? Why? How? What?

Maybe it was the constant talking that masked the sound.

Maybe it was the noise of daily life and teachers talking and a ghost asking questions that hid the sound from his consciousness, so that he only rarely noticed or remembered the something he forgot.

Silence would only come right before he went to sleep. It was a truce between the two war parties; the fast-firing questions and equally rapid answers would be put on hold until morning so he could get some rest. The ghost didn't need sleep and would occupy itself until morning. It was only when the ghost stopped playing his ancient instruments and read the several open books and articles or played go with itself that the noise finally stopped and true silence reigned.

But silence is never true silence and the boy trying to fall asleep became aware of the noises he usually couldn't hear. The hum of the furnace in winter or the air conditioning in the summer. The trains running, far away from where he was laying. The rustle of leaves in the wind, right outside his window. His heartbeat, the thump thump of blood in his ears, and the faint repeat that wasn't natural. But he soon fell asleep and when he awoke, he couldn't remember the thoughts that occupied his mind the night before and he went on with his day.

Maybe he did notice it but was too occupied to inquire about it.

Maybe he was only fully aware of it in the middle of a game, when the blood rushing to his ears intensified the noise so that he couldn't help but notice it, but was too caught up in the game.

It wasn't a game he would have chosen, rather the game chose him.

He tried to block all influence of the game, instead of playing, shouting about how wonderful physical activities were, soccer and basketball and tennis, played outside, under the sun, and running around.

But despite his blocking it, the ghost prevailed, the game prevailed, and he learned go. It snuck into his life, slowly but surely, and once the idea was planted in his mind he couldn't get rid of it. It knocked down his wall and he fell in love.

He played with the passion of a mad lover, driven insane by his newfound love.

When he played, he had only one thing he focused on – the board with the universe, the galaxy he created, the stars and planets, which he directed with care. His eyes focused, his unused hand almost drew blood from how tight he held it, his feet long asleep but the pain ignored as he played. As he played and the blood in his ears blocked out everything that had nothing to do with go or galaxies, then he knew it was there, the thump thump, thump thump, double the sound of everyone else. But he focused it on the game that held priority and never paid it any more attention.

Maybe that was his fatal mistake in the end.

Maybe if he mentioned it or thought about it sooner, then it would still be there.

As he watched the game, his fingernails drew blood on his palms, as he wished he could play a game like the one he watched. Even though he wasn't playing, he could feel his heart beating faster, the double heartbeat in his ears but he never noticed how faint the second heartbeat sounded. Even in the silence after he pointed out the move that would have changed the winner of the game, when his ghost was silently contemplating life and existence, he didn't notice the sound getting fainter and fainter.

That night, the one where everything changed, he didn't hear his ghost trying to stay in this world, begging him to acknowledge his existence once last time, and the second heartbeat ended, all while he slept.

He didn't realize what it was until it was gone.

It was the heartbeat his ghost didn't have, the one thing that meant his ghost was alive, as alive as a ghost could be, and when the heartbeat ended, so did the ghost.

He couldn't play for a long time, mourning the loss of his ghost. He couldn't bear the thought that he hadn't truly acknowledged the ghost's presence in his mind, the ghost's heartbeat.

When he finally played go again, he cried, not only for the loss of the second beat in his mind but also the realization his ghost was in his game. His ghost had left him something that would always be with him, not constant like the sound in his mind but with him all the same.

He did things people never understood. He answered their inquiries with a smile or a shaking head, never truly explaining why. It was simple, cheap fan, but a replica of the fan his ghost used to carry and it had been a shock when he first started carrying it but everyone realized how important it was when he rescued it from under someone's foot and held with such care. He knew they gossiped about him and his habits but he didn't let it bother him, the whispering ignored as he had ignored the proof of his ghost.

And so, Hikaru continues to play go.

As he plays, his fan taps his knee. With his eyes on the board, the blood in his ears, he taps out the sound of his heartbeat and the one that is gone, not with him but at the same time, never gone.

Tap tap, tap tap.

Thump thump, tap tap.

Thump thump, thump thump.

And as he wins his games, he knows he will never forget his ghost or the heartbeat he carried in his mind.

 **-x-X-x-**

FIN

\- REW


End file.
